A Day in Paradise
by RuthanneReid
Summary: A slightly unusual day in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes...


**_--_****A Day in Paradise_--_**

_**7:30am**_

"Hmmm, hmm hmm - oh, hello, Fred."

"Hello, George - sleep well?"

"Innndubitably. Oh, lookit, it seems someone got caught in our trap."

There, just inside the door and to the left, hung a naked, bound, upside-down burglar. He was a very unhappy burglar, for fairly obvious reasons, and from the look of him he'd been most of the night right there. Calliope music provided his ambience, and paint decorated his body. Also, half his head had been shaved.

George peered uncertainly. "Only half his head got shaved, Fred. We screwed up."

"Maybe so, but the paint worked out fine. How're they hanging, bloke?"

"Mmmmmph!" said the burglar, and attempted to thrash; he looked, thought George, rather like an oddly colored pickle. 

"Yes, yes. Shall we call the cops, then?"

"Righto, Fred, my boy!" George announced, and leapt over the counter one-handed. Using his wand to open one of a set of twelve cages on the highest shelf in the store, he tossed a tiny red button to the energetic brown owl that flew out. "Police! Go on, Mercury! Make it quick now, I think his feet are turning blue." 

Mercury, naturally, flew straight out the door which Fred opened for it with a short bow. "Godspeed!"

"Mmmph," said the burglar disconsolately, and Fred patted him on the bum. 

"Your pain will be over soon. He get anything, George?" Fred busied himself removing drop cloths from the display windows and turning their demure "Closed" sign to "Open."

"Mmm... doesn't look that way," said George, turning off the calliope music. "Ooh, he DID upset my Magical Marvelous Mystery Marbles - criminy, they've all blended in with the floor, we'll NEVER find them now."

"Perhaps that cavuum-cleaner that Hermione was telling us about?"

And the door opened, and in walked three members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wearing dark green robes and identical looks of leeriness. 

"Weasley?" asked the third.

"Yes!" answered Fred and George at once; numbers one and two of the three green-clad enforcers eyed them with severe distrust and said nothing at all. 

"Where is the problem?" asked number three.

George inclined his head, and the number three startled.

"Mmmph!" announced the burglar, fishtailing wildly in the air as if desperate to be rescued from his circumstances. Smiling innocently, Fred waved his wand and the burglar fell with a _thump_ to the floor. 

"Careful! We've got to take him in, you know?" reprimanded number three, who had not been to the shop before and wasn't nearly as cautious as the other two. Efficiently, he spelled the man some clothes and a set of magically confining shackles. "Up you go, mate."

The burglar, his mouth now freed, could not keep quiet. "They're mad! Both of them! MAD!"

"Now, hush you, it's time to go, you're caught red-handed," said number three, but the burglar didn't seem to be listening.

"The music... and the jokes! The blood-shot eyes, and the marbles that GLEAM and - "

"Ah - yes," said number three, and began steering him toward the door. "We'll be contacting you, Weasley."

"Seeya," George said in a disturbingly cheerful tone, and the burglar suddenly screamed and bolted out the door.

"Stop him!" said number one, and all three of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement employees ran out after him. George tsk'd and shook his head. 

"You'd think they'd learn after a while, wouldn't you? It isn't as if anyone's ever SUCCEEDED in robbing us."

"Why, that's our problem!" Fred replied, and with one tap of his wand set the cash register back in working order. "None of them are getting loose to warn the others!"

"There's the ticket. Catch 'em and set 'em loose. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's good. Hand me that box of nose-bleed pills, would you? I want to make a new display. It IS the beginning of April, after all!"

* * *

_**8:45am**_

The door opened with a jingle, and Fred stood up in surprise.

"Harry! Good to see you, how are you, how are you?"

"Fine, fine, um - I was wondering if you had sort of a... ah... fake broom-cleaning kit."

The heavy red curtains behind the counter rustled, and George appeared between them with a flourish. "Amazing that you should ask right now, Harry, my boy, because we have indeed just put the finishing touches on..." He clapped his hands. Fred tapped the counter once, twice, three times; and on the third tap, an ill-looking puff of green smoke exploded, then dissipated to revel three expensive-looking black leather cases - one red, one black, one green.

"Oh - oh, that is _perfect_."

"Of COURSE it is, Harry, when have we ever steered you wrong?"

"Well - "

"Don't answer that, Harry, don't answer that. Here you go, the whole thing, kit and caboodle (pun IN-tended), easily worth a full five galleons!"

"But for you and you only, our most special and important friend Harry Potter, we give it to you for the amazing sale price of - !" Fred waved his wand in the air, and the words _"39 Sickles" _ appeared.

Harry hesitated. "Um...."

Fred put his arm around Harry's shoulders, and George leaned on the counter, chin in his hands. "Surely you don't think we're CHEATING you, Harry?" George asked, affecting a look of wounded innocence.

"No, I just - well, I mean, this IS going to work, isn't it?"

George smiled nastily. "Won't work, you mean. Won't work at ALL the way the intended planned - here you go. Guaranteed to have an effect on Nimbus 2001's."

Harry flushed as if caught, and without another word emptied the required amount on the counter. Snatching the black kit under his arm and muttering "thanks," he sped directly out of the shop without looking back.

"Silly boy."

"Yeah, I know. He should've taken the green one."

* * *

_**11:14am**_

The bell over the front door jingled, and Fred looked up in surprise.

"...well. Never thought we'd see the likes of YOU in here," he said.

Draco Malfoy didn't even bother to sneer. Pale, trembling, furious, he said only one thing: "I want. Something. For owls."

Fred pursed his lips, but George popped up from behind the counter with a tiny blue box; it was covered with dust. 

"Here you go, Malfoy. Turn her blue and pop her tail feathers off. Only three galleons."

Draco eyed it with suspicion. "Not good enough."

"You can't KILL her, Malfoy," Fred chided lightly, and held the box out temptingly between his thumb and forefinger. "This way, she simply won't be able to fly for a while and be quite the laughingstock."

"How long?" Draco asked, taking a step closer and watching the box with more interest.

"Mmm... however long it takes them to fix her, I'd imagine; but it'd be pretty embarassing. But not bad enough to get you in trouble - eh?"

Draco glared. "Stop saying 'she.' You don't know anything." He snatched the box and dropped the galleons on the counter. "This had better work," he snarled.

"You have to follow the instructions," George said lightly, turning away to snatch carefully at the self-jugging exploding balls hovering by the bookshelf.

"Whatever," Draco said, already on his way out.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes holds no responsibility if you don't!" tried Fred, but the door shut before his last words were out. Snorting, he dropped the three galleons in the cash register and closed it with a bang. "Git."

"Think he'll follow them?"

"Not on your life. I just wish I could give my eye teeth to get a look at him blue and balding."

* * *

_**1:50pm**_

The bell over the door rang, and George nearly dropped his sandwich. 

"Why - Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Both Weasleys abandoned what they were doing and stood up straighter, for once having nothing to say.

"Ah, hello, hello, good day to you both - I was wondering if you didn't have anything in the way of those wonderful exploding chocolate frogs. Quite creative, those, especially with the way the card says 'boom' before it goes off."

"Ah - "

"We -"

"Certainly, sir, just give - "

"A moment, a moment - a, HERE we go!" George slid a box across the counter. Then, thinking better of it, he added two more. "Take them, on the house, Professor."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly!" insisted Dumbledore cheerfully, rummaging in the pockets of his gown. 

Fred snatched up the boxes and held them out with a tiny bow. "Please, Professor; we insist." He grinned. "Least we can do for all those years you let us get away with stuff."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Now, what would the world be without a little getting away with stuff, hm? Thank you both, very much. I DO hope you'll come and visit soon."

Fred and George accompanied him to the door - which they opened for him - and for once, had nothing to say immediately after he'd left.

"...thought we were done for, I did," George finally shared, going back to his sandwich.

"Nah. Dumbledore'd never call us on a little something like broom troubles and balding students. Hand me that Falsimap, would you? I think Hungary isn't moving when I turn my back like it's supposed to."

* * *

_**2:35pm**_

Snape slammed into the shop, moving at such a pace that the bell over the door came off with a violent jingle and fell to the floor..

"Hey!" said George. "It took me all day to get that up there."

"YOU!" Snape roared, then calmed himself enough so that he merely looked murderous, not insane. "I don't suppose you two... _individuals_... don't know anything about boxes of exploding frogs that SOMEHOW made their way into my classroom today."

Fred and George looked at one another; silently, they came to a decision. Carefully, George lifted a small, glass ball and held it out to Snape for inspection.

"I think this'll right your woes, Severus," he said, not bothering to explain. Snape glared at it, but did not touch.

"And this would be - ?"

"Your key to stress relief, Sevvie," said George, and Snape glared at him. 

"Buying me off, is that it?"

"Yup," admitted Fred, and snatching Snape's hand, plunked the ball into it. "Trust me, you'll thank us."

Snape looked at it; looked at them both, hefted it, and then seemed to decide that it was a fair enough trade. "Fine. Just fine. Perhaps I won't inform your mother after all."

Fred and George both winced, but neither had the lack of sense to argue over authoritative technicalities. Snape nodded once, as a way of farewell; then tucking the crystal ball away, he turned on his heel and swept out of the shop as quickly as he'd come in. Mournfully, Fred regarded the doorbell. 

"Took me all day," he said regretfully, and George patted him on the shoulder.

"It's okay, love. I'll get it back up this time. So, you reckon we lost how much money on THAT little unexpected transaction?"

"Not nearly as much as we saved on that fifteen-knut set we sold Malfoy," reminded Fred, and they both had a chuckle as they went to clean up.

* * *

**_4:15pm_**

The bell above the door rang - this time staying intact - and in came someone Fred had really not expected to see.

"Ron!" he cried, and gave his brother a quick hug, just to bug him. "WherEVER have you been? Oooh, what mum would do if she knew YOU were here!"

"Shut up, I haven't got much time," Ron replied, glowering darkly at Fred. "I need something like a howler, but worse. And it can't be traceable, and I need it right now. And if you tell ANYBODY I've been in here - "

"Ronnie!" George cried, and flung himself bodily over the counter to tackle. While they struggled on the floor to untangle themselves, Fred climbed up a ladder and selected an octagonal red box from the highest shelf.

"Here you go, Ron," he said, and tossed it. "But I wouldn't open it, if I were you. Just whisper into that little hole right there the name of the person you want it to go after, and then move. And I DO mean move - you don't want the stuff that comes out getting anywhere on your clothes."

Ron nodded, looking as grim as any combatant in guerilla warfare would, and pocketed it immediately. "How much?"

"Mmm... let's just put it on your bill for later, hm?" said George, and Ron paled slightly.

"Pirates," he muttered, but knew better than to argue. Turning on his heel - he really WAS in a rush - he turned and fled back out the door, presumably to Hogwarts.

"Well," said Fred, raising an eyebrow. "An unusual and expensive day - what are we up to now, George?"

"You don't want to know," George replied, and resumed his sweeping.

* * *

_**7:29pm**_

It had been a most profitable day, in spite of the many more than usual give-aways. Fred calculated that they'd made at least fifty galleons just from the after-lunch crowd, which made both of them very happy indeed. George had just finished covering up the displays and was about to turn the "Open" sign back to "Closed," when the bell over the front door rang and Dumbledore once again walked into the shop.

"Oh, now, now, don't do that," he said as both Weasley's leapt to attention, Fred's back cracking with slightly alarming volume. "I'm not here for accolades; I'm here to deliver a gift."

"A - professor, that isn't necessary - "

"Have everything we need - "

"More than satisfied - "

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "After all the fun you two have caused at the school today, it's the least I can do. Here - I do believe you've earned it." He dropped a book on the counter. "You might find this useful as you continue in your - ah, research," he said, smiling most mischeviously, and tipped his hat. "Have a good day." And with that, he left. 

Fred and George eyed the book with just a little suspicion. Tan, rattily bound and unlabeled, it sat there looking harmless.

"He wouldn't. Right? I mean - it IS April 1st, but he wouldn't. Would he?"

"Only one way to find out." Together, wands out, they opened the cover and peered at the contents inside. 

"What's this? 'How to make your enemies know you're dangerous?' Eh?"

"Oh!" cried Fred, shoving George slightly out of the way to have a better look. "Oh, I LIKE this one. This'll make it much easier to keep thieves out without having to let one go, don't you think?"

"Bloody good, Fred. And take a look at the next one - 'How to know if unpleasant customers are coming your way.' Damn, that IS a nice idea. Guess we'd have a warning system set up - "

"'How to keep dust off high-placed objects - '"

"'How to keep friends and family from thinking you're insane, even when you are - '"

"'How to keep extra stock in nice places without taking up extra space - ' George... you realize what he's given us?"

"Yeah. Our handbook for the next year of business," George said, and flipped to the last page. There, written in Dumbledore's looping and slightly old-fashioned scrawl, were three simple words: 

_Happy Birthday, boys._

"Awww... he remembered," cooed Fred, sounding far less touched than he actually was, and George patted him on the back.

"And a good birthday it was, indeed. Let's go home." And tucking the book carefully away, that's exactly what they did. It HAD been a good birthday, after all.

* * *

**_Author's Notes:  
_**Some people have wondered, so I'm going to explain just what was sold. 

1. Harry picked up a broom servicing kit, which he switched with Draco's. It didn't do permanent damage to the broom - but the poor Nimbus DID start singing very off-tune Christmas carols and turned a ghastly orange plaid.

2. Draco, in return, guessing who had thusly embarassed him, aimed for something he knew Harry treasured - Hedwig the owl. Fortunately for all (but not so fortunately for Draco), he did not follow the instructions exactly, and it backfired. He spent three hours in the medical ward hiding with the back of his head bald and both hair and skin bright blue.

3. Dumbledore: exploding chocolate frogs. The card says "boom." Pretty self-explanatory.

4. Snape picked up an eeeevile little crystal ball. When exchanged for the ones Trelawney normally provides in her class, this ball shows to the person who looks into it a most bizarre sight: that of himself, standing in the classroom, butt naked. Unfortunately for said person, that becomes reality the moment the person who sees it looks away. Needless to say, Snape gave it to Ron, because it was Ron's frogs that exploded.

5. In the light of this, Ron's Toweler was an appropriate revenge. Similar to the Howler, once set loose, this thing could not be turned from its intended target; but instead of yelling - which would let the receptee know who sent it - the Toweler spits a noxious green liquid all over the person it's sent after, which dissolves HIS clothing and leaves him not just naked, but really, really filthy and in need of a bath - hence, "Toweler." (It attacked at dinner; one might say it was extremely fortunate that Snape never found out who set it off.)

6. Yes, I know it's absurd that everyone could get from Hogwarts to Diagon Alley in between classes. It's a silly story, work with me here. ~_^


End file.
